


John's Cat

by MiladyPheonix



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Inspired by Fanart, John is a Saint, M/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 18:18:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17472560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiladyPheonix/pseuds/MiladyPheonix
Summary: Sherlock is prowling around being grumpy, John is reading a book. Just fluffy nonsense really, I tender no excuses, I am inexcusable.





	John's Cat

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on an adorable piece of fanart, the artist has apparently left Tumblr but my writing a ficlet was supported.

Inspired by [this](http://0011000111110010100.tumblr.com/post/110963025424/happy-otp-day) adorableness.

John settled on the bed to read, a half hours reading was his habit before bed but he would push it to all night if needed because Sherlock had been pacing all day discontented and rumbling to himself like a particularly grumpy jaguar. John had tried to help but the rumble had turned into a growl so he’d given his partner space to prowl and only pushed the issue when it had come to dinner time.

When John had gone to bed his personal panther had followed and now paced the bedroom with his dressing gown swaying behind him like a long satiny tail. So John read his book and watch his partner move because he loved watching Sherlock just move, so beautiful. “You coming to bed Love?” John said to his book, Sherlock would read the concern in his eyes and say he was fussing, well he probably knew John was worried anyway. The panther paused and stalked towards their bed, John turned a page to hide his smile.

“I’m not tired John, you should sleep. You’re always irritable when you’ve not slept" John swallowed his next comment and waited for Sherlock to settle. John felt himself grin a graceful fingers began playing music on his back, a tiger now, languid and lazy pushed a long leg under John’s knees as more fingers pressed notes into his forearm. John followed the fingers as they played, his lullaby that Sherlock had composed for his nightmares when he moved in.

When it was done John put down the book he was no longer reading and pulled fret-filled curls against his heart to rest. A happy hum purred against his side and John smiled as they both drifted off to sleep.


End file.
